A Flower
by dockingdisney
Summary: It all started with a flower... Christopher Scott's challenge. Rated for... well, you'll see. Vanqua


**Christopher Scott's new challenge :D I own nothing.**

**I have been… well, depressed isn't cutting it, so I needed to vent it out. Hope you don't mind, Christopher Scott!**

**I (obviously) own nothing**

It all started with a flower.

She doesn't think she'll actually recover from it. She had loved him. She still loves him. How could it all go downhill?

She should never have gotten in that car. She should never have drunk that damn alcohol.

She still has the flower. That rose is still in her room. It isn't dead; how can a fake flower die? Do black roses even exist? Probably not, but it fit; he had a dark persona, she was the light. It was natural for the dark to infiltrate the light.

Tears roll down her cheeks and she holds the flower close to her chest. He was gone. He was gone, and he was never coming back.

"Aqua?"

She looks up at the blond boy and the brunet boy. The blond boy—the younger one—frowns slightly. He was the other driver. He was the one whose car she drove into that night. "Aqua, it'll be alright," he murmurs.

She doesn't respond. They were twins, her love and the blond boy. The blond boy reminded her so much of him…

"Aqua." The brunet boy. "You'll find someone else. I promise." He says that because he wants her. She knows this. She knows he loves her. But she still loves her deceased…

"Aqua, Vanitas… I'm sorry, but Vanitas wasn't a great guy. I lived with him. I would know," the blond boy tries to say, but she blocks him out. She doesn't want to hear it. They were brothers. Of course he thinks that.

"C'mon, Ven. She's not going to listen," the brunet boy whispers, but she still hears. Yes, please leave…

"But, Terra—"

"She's not going to listen. Let's just go," he orders, walking away. The blond looks at her one last time before he grudgingly leaves. She closes her eyes, wanting just to see his face.

He appears in her eyes. His ebony hair, so smooth and spiky. His golden eyes, piercing. His skin, so white. She loved it when he didn't wear that mask, the mask his father made him wear because of his "disfiguration," his metal glued on his face by his own father. Why did he have to be the one to die? Why couldn't it have been her?

She scrunches her face as she remembers the night. She wasn't too drunk, but he was completely wasted, so she drove. She couldn't even walk in a straight line, so she didn't drive like she should have; she didn't see the blond's car as he came to pick the both of them up, a fact she had completely forgotten about that night. She hears the sound of the crash again, and cries out as she remembers her love flying out of the car's front windows…

She opens her eyes, panting. "No…" she whispers. "I won't relive that night. I won't… I won't…"

A knock on the door. She ignores it; she doesn't want to see anyone. She holds the black rose even tighter than before; it's all she has left of him, except for her memories and the photographs, and all but one of them with the mask.

An old man walks in; her father, his safe haven when his father was being nasty again. "Aqua," he murmurs, coming closer. "Aqua, come give your father a hug. Come and cry with me."

She looks at him. Can he really be offering that? She gently sets the rose on her bed, and gets up slowly. He opens up his arms and smiles softly at her. She keeps her face emotionless, but once she's in his embrace, she breaks down. The tears flow and she wails, her shell finally cracking. He says nothing, just strokes circles across her back like he did when she was little. He ignores the salty water growing on his shirt; he ignores the snot flowing down her face and dripping onto him; he just stands there, tracing circles on her back and letting her cry on him.

The sobbing lessens slowly, and it dies down to sniffles, and then to nothing, just drying eyes. She looks up at him and he softly smiles in an attempt to comfort her. To his and her surprise, she half smiles back. He doesn't let his shock show, just ruffles her hair and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

He doesn't realize it's the last goodbye.

She goes back to her bed and sneaks her hand under her pillow. She looks at the little vial and swishes the liquid inside it. She holds the rose and a photograph of the two of them tightly in one hand and the vial in the other. She pops off the lid and takes a shaky breath before gulping the contents in one swig. She gently sets it down before her breath catches in her throat. Her breathing stops, and she closes her eyes with one thought in her mind.

_See you soon._

A week later, the tears roll down the old man, the blond boy, and the brunet boy's cheeks. Dressed in black, the brunet glares at the graves he's standing in front of. "It's all your fault," he whispers angrily to one—the one with the mask laid in front of it. "It's all your damn fault."

"Terra," the old man replies. "If there is anyone to blame, it is Aqua."

"But Eraqus—"

"She chose to lose her life. It was her choice. Now, let's go," the old man continues.

The blond boy looks up at the brunet boy, holding his little brothers' hands. "C'mon, Roxas, Sora," he murmurs to them, squeezing their hands. "She's happy now. We don't have to cry for her."

"But she's gone," the little brunet whispers, tears still forming.

"Yes, that's true," the blond boy replies, walking off. "But did you want her to be happy?"

"Yes! Yes!" the tiny blond replies.

"Well, she's happy now, and isn't that what matters?"

The brunet boy looks back at the brothers, envying their little minds. If only he was that young; maybe it wouldn't hurt as much.

He looks back at the graves, and he tosses a photo to the ground before stalking off angrily. It floats down to the upturned grass, and lands in between the two graves. It's of her and her boy; of how it all began.

He's giving her a flower.


End file.
